


ASOIAF Ficlets

by fields_of_falafel



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Character Study, F/F, F/M, Grief/Mourning, i only put the major character death tag up there bc this takes place after the red wedding, lil bit of a kidfic in ch3, this was originally a one-shot and now it's a ton of one-shots, unnecessary angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-24 17:01:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7516118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fields_of_falafel/pseuds/fields_of_falafel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A ton of assorted ficlets and drabbles that take place in the ASOIAF universe.</p><p>Most Recent: [Arya Stark/Gendry Waters] Arya dreams of home.</p><p>If you'd like to see a pairing or a prompt or both leave a comment!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Robb Stark/Jeyne Westerling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb dies. 
> 
> Jeyne grieves.

They should’ve gone home.

They should’ve started a family.

They should’ve been happy.

She was at Riverrun with her mother when she heard what had happened to him. Murdered, they said. At his uncle’s wedding.

She paced her rooms, wondering what type of person would ruin such a holy and pure ceremony. How much hate did a person have to have in their heart to kill and ruin lives, just because of a broken deal? Walder Frey had gotten his marriage, a better marriage than he could’ve hoped for with Edmure. Why did he have to take out his anger on her husband, her strong, beautiful, dead husband?

The more she paced, the more she realized.

Robb’s death was her fault.

If she hadn’t married him, if she hadn’t approached him on the battlefield, if she hadn’t _fallen in love_ with him, he’d be alive. He wouldn’t be hers but at least he’d be alive. At the very least she’d be able to see the way his eyes lit up when he smiled and his gravelly laugh and his strong hands wrapped around her waist.

Her mother told her that it was better to have loved and lost than never love at all.

Her mother was wrong.

She would gladly watch him marry a Frey girl and have children with her if that meant he’d be alive.

As the days passed she watched her stomach carefully, waiting, praying for it to swell. She prayed that her bleeding would never come. She needed a piece of Robb with her, she needed _anything_.

Her bleeding came. She knew it would. Her hopes had all been in vain from the beginning.

Weeks passed, and she had nothing. She heard tales of Robb’s death, and his mother’s. She heard how they mutilated her husband, about how they sewed his direwolf’s body onto his head. She heard how they sliced Lady Catelyn’s neck to the bone and threw her body in the river. There was no respect for the King in the North.

More time passed. She lost track. She didn’t eat. She didn’t sleep. She found herself growing thin and pale but couldn’t find it in herself to care. Her mother tried to get her to eat or bathe, but she was lifeless. She had nothing to live for now that he was gone.

One day they left Riverrun for the Crag. Her mother told her the truth, which was she’d given her potions against pregnancy. She’d said it like there was no harm done, but there was. She was the reason she had no pieces left of Robb.

On the day they left Riverrun her mother set out a light purple dress for her. It was finely made, strong silk with gold inlay on the chest. It was the most beautiful dress she’d ever had.

She ripped it to pieces. Instead, she donned her black mourning dress and left her room with the dress in hand. She dropped it at her mother’s feet and walked away.

She was a queen. She would mourn her husband for as long as she wished. And after that, she would rise again. After all, Jeyne was Queen in the North. And she would do as queens do: survive.


	2. Robert Baratheon/Lyanna Stark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyanna meets Robert for the first time.

The first time Lyanna Stark met Robert Baratheon she had not been impressed. He was loud and opinionated, drunk and stupid and tried too hard to be charming. She looked over at her younger brother who was standing across the room. Ned just shrugged and looked away.

“My lady,” Robert said, his speech slurred from too much wine, “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

So this was to be her betrothed.

“I was . . . eagerly . . . awaiting your arrival.” Her father had given her a stern look in the middle of her sentence. Robert didn’t seem to notice, just smiled his big oafish smile.

“I was eagerly awaiting to meet you, my lady.”

“As was I, my lord. Please, pardon me for just one moment.”

Robert nodded and Lyanna stalked off, heading directly for Ned.

“You told me he was a good man.” She accused, not caring if she attracted the attention of other people around her.

“He is a good man.” Ned said, scratching the back of his head. Lyanna knew her brother loved Robert like his own brother, but she didn’t understand why.

“He already has a bastard daughter.” She crossed her arms.

“So he likes to sleep around.”

“He’s unfaithful.”

“ _Lyanna_.” Ned put his hand up. “Give him a chance. He’s already in love with you.”

“He’s in love with the idea of me, Ned. There’s a difference.” Before her brother could respond she continued. “He whores, he drinks-”

“Every man whores and every man drinks, that doesn’t mean he won’t be good to you.”

Lyanna didn’t respond, just crossed her arms.

“Give him a chance, will you? He loves you.” Ned pleaded.

She huffed.

“Go on, he’s waiting for you.” Ned pushed her back to the center of the room, where Robert was eagerly waiting for her.

She took one more look at him and _knew_ this wouldn’t work out for her, she just _knew_ , but she would do it for her brother. If he claimed he was a good man, she’d give him a chance.

However, it didn’t stop her stomach dropping when she saw him smiling at her.


	3. Sansa Stark/Jeyne Poole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeyne and Sansa were once little girls in Winterfell, with dreams of handsome knights and young lords.

“Jeyne, wait up!” Sansa cried, running after her friend. Jeyne had always been faster than her, but she didn’t have to show off.

“Come on Sansa!” Jeyne yelled back, disappearing into the godswood.

Sansa propelled her little legs, chasing after her friend. Ever since she’d turned eight she’d thought she was better than Sansa, who was still only seven. She’d show her.

Jeyne came back into sight and was pelting towards the pool in the center. Sansa pushed herself even faster, so fast that she pelted right into Jeyne.

“Oof!” Jeyne and Sansa fell to the ground roughly, with Sansa’s elbow ending up in Jeyne’s ribs.

“Get off me ya big lump!” Jeyne shoved her over, right next to her.

The two girls looked at one another and burst into laughter. Sansa liked laughing like this, not having a care in the world.

But then, Jeyne quieted.

Sansa stopped a moment later, sitting up along with her friend. She looked a little bit sad.

“What’s wrong?” Sansa asked her.

Jeyne was quiet for another moment. “You know Calon, the guardsman’s son?”

Sansa was confused. They’d just been laughing a moment before and now she was sad. She didn’t know what Calon had to do with it either.

“I know him.” Sansa replied. He was not a nice boy.

“Well, I, um, I found him in the godswood one day.”

“Why was he in the godswood? What happened, Jeyne?”

Before Jeyne could reply Sansa realized. “You liked him, now I remember.”

“Yes, I liked him, and so I went up to him. He didn’t look like he was praying so I sat down by him. We talked for a little bit . . . and then . . . and then,”

“What happened?” Sansa asked, her voice softer now.

“I asked if I could kiss him.” Jeyne said, barely a whisper.

Sansa gasped. “Did you kiss? Was it wonderful? Oh, please tell me everything.”

Jeyne looked down. “He said he didn’t want to kiss me. And then he left.”

Sansa frowned along with her friend.

“I’m sorry, Jeyne. I know you liked him.”

She reached out to hug her friend and Jeyne hugged her back. What a nasty boy that Calon was, not kissing her friend. That’s what young boys were supposed to do, kiss pretty young girls. Jeyne was a pretty young girl, she deserved a kiss.

“Jeyne, I have an idea!” Sansa announced, pulling away from her friend.

Jeyne sniffed a little and looked up at her friend. “What is it?”

“I’ll kiss you!”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “You’ll kiss me? I thought only boys were supposed to kiss girls.”

Sansa shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s okay for girls to kiss girls too.”

Jeyne brightened. “Okay.”

Sansa stood up, offering her hand to Jeyne. “My lady,” she said in a gruff voice, “I would very much like to kiss a pretty lady such as yourself, if it please my lady.”

Jeyne giggled. “Why yes, my lord. I would allow a kiss from a handsome knight such as yourself.”

Sansa accidentally giggled before putting her knight’s face back on. “You have done me a great honor.”

Jeyne and Sansa’s lips collided a little roughly, but they both thought it was nice. Jeyne’s lips were soft and Sansa found that she liked kissing her.

They pulled away a moment later, each smiling. “We should do that again.” She remembered their game and added, “my lord.”

“I would consider another kiss from a beautiful lady an even greater honor.” Sansa said in her lord’s voice before the two burst into giggles.

“Lady Sansa! Jeyne!” They heard Jeyne’s father at the entrance of the godswood.

“Oh, we’d better go.” Jeyne looked in the direction of her father.

“May this knight escort you out?” Sansa offered her arm.

“He may.”

The two little girls smiled as they walked properly towards her father and only giggled when he asked what they were doing, happy with their secret game.


	4. Arya Stark/Gendry Waters

Home.

It was a word she didn’t know the meaning of anymore, not after everything that had happened.

For the longest time her home had been Winterfell, with her mother and father and brothers and sister. It was a place that was hers from the moment she was born and now she’d been away from it for too long, far too long. Was it still home if she could barely remember it?

King’s Landing hadn’t been a home. It couldn’t be anyone’s home, not with that much deceit and so many lies crowded into one small place. It wouldn’t ever be her home, not after what she’d seen.

But him . . . had he become her home? Him, with his curly black hair and his kind eyes and the stubble on his chin? Him, with the way he’d smile at her when he thought she wasn’t looking, him, with his deep laugh that came from deep within him when he found her funny, him, with the soft lips he’d pressed to hers one night when no one was watching. Gods, she missed him.

She’d told Jaqen H’ghar that she was going home to Winterfell, but was that the truth?

Once she’d asked her mother if her home was in Winterfell or Riverrun and her mother had told her that home was where the heart was. She didn’t understand it back then as she was so young but now she knew that her mother’s home was with her father.

Could that mean that her home wasn’t in Winterfell, but with him?

She didn’t know, she didn’t understand. All she knew was that she missed the way his stubble rubbed against her cheek and the way he smiled at her and that hearty laugh.

Home is where the heart is, she understood that now. And though it pained her to admit it, she didn’t miss Winterfell as much as she missed him.


End file.
